Tiriel sat near the shore, sharpening her mother’s weapons under the morning sun. Her back was resting on a tree and her feet were in the clear blue water. It was six years after the war had begun. She was restless and anxious. Gildor did his best to creep up behind her.
“Earelen! How did you know it was me,” Gildor said as he sat down next to her.
“I see that you’re sharpening your weapons and daggers. Why?”
“Because I am tired of being a nurse to the wounded who come here. I want to do something to help-even if it’s just a shift of guard duty. Gildor, I’m restless.”
“I know you are. Which is why I convinced your father to let you take the morning shift with me.”
Tiriel had a look of astonishment on her face. “Oh Gildor! You didn’t!”
Gildor wrapped his arms around her, “Just as long as you don’t get yourself killed.”
“I ask the same of you, love. What of Númenor?”
“He is trying to ensnare them, but there are those who will fight with us. Elrond has gone to Imladris. Finnel left this morning to join them. Eriador is under siege; and yes, Galadriel, Maren and Celeborn are all safe.”
“How much will this go on?”
“I don’t know, Earelen, I truly don’t.”
1,730 years later* the war still continued. But Numenor had been destroyed; the war had inevitable spread to Numenor. The Last Alliance between Men and Elves had been formed.
Tiriel and Gildor were sitting on the marble steps of Mithlond, under the bright stars of Varda one evening.
“What news did Elrond’s messenger bring?”
“I knew you would ask that questions, Earelen,” Gildor said as he drew her closer to him, “Gil-galad has summoned everyone who can fight to meet at Imladris. From there we will go to Mordor.”
“Oh Gildor! What of me?”
“You will lead Mithlond.”
“So Father is also going. When do you leave?”
“A week. It will be hard for all of us.”
“We will survive whatever challenge lies before us.”
A week later…
Gildor, Cirdan and the other Elves of Mithlond were assembled in the early morning to go to Imladris. The rising sun turned their shining silver armor to gold. Tiriel stood with Cirdan and Gildor.
“Be safe, both of you. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”
“We will return, Tiriel,” said Cirdan.
“Why would we want to die, Earelen?”
“Oh Gildor! Stop that! Give my best to the others. May the Valar protect you. I love you both very much.”
“I love you, my daughter,” Cirdan said as he embraced Tiriel.
“Earelen, my love, the stars will guide and protect us,” Gildor said as he embraced Tiriel with tears in his eyes.
Tiriel watched the company depart over the hill with tears in her eyes.
“Varda, let this end quickly.”
The war ended eleven years later. Last Tiriel heard, Cirdan, Gildor, Finnel and Elrond were still alive. One summer day, Tiriel was in Cirdan’s beautiful study, weaving a cloak when Lere came in.
“Tiriel! Come quickly! A company is coming over the hill!”
“Thank you, Lere!”
“Tiriel bolted out of Cirdan’s study and ran towards the hill. What she saw nearly made her heart stop-Cirdan, Gildor, and a company of Elves were coming! They were home! She met them on the trail to Mithlond, by a large boulder.
“Tiriel,” Cirdan and Gildor said in unison as they dismounted and embraced her.
Tiriel found herself in the arms of her father and husband.
“It’s over, Earelen,” Gildor whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer to him.
Later that evening, Tiriel and Gildor sat at their favorite spot-the stairs under the stars of Varda.
“What’s this for, Earelen?”
“Don’t leave me again, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod Felagund.”
“I won’t, Earelen, I won’t. What do you want to do now?”
Tiriel laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve got a great idea-let’s just see what happens and not plan this Age.”
“I completely agree, my darling Earelen,” Gildor said before he kissed Tiriel.
*3430 Second Age. This part begins in 1699.